So Blind
by ArieSemir
Summary: Lucius is about to be sent to Azkaban, and he asks his old friend Severus to keep his wife company. Fairly original take on it, I think. Or not. You decide! COMPLETE, edited for clarity and spelling
1. A Favor

Title: So Blind

Author's Note: This is my first HP fic. It's very exciting, embarking on a new fandom.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter, not even the special broomstick. You know what I mean.

Summary: Lucius is sent to Azkaban and asks his old friend Severus to keep his wife company. Don't worry folks, this will not be an epic tales spanning the years; a mere four chapters are waiting in the wings.

Rating: PG-13 for short bit about suicide.

Now that that's all taken care of, read, enjoy, and review!

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"And Severus?"

"Yes?" It was strange to see the older man looking so worn. His eyes were chips of flint, but not even he could disguise the lines around his mouth and eyes. It was disturbing, as well, for Lucius Malfoy was one of those constants in life he count on never changing. He regretted that, sometimes, but it was the simple truth.

But the sentence looming before him had eroded the stone at Lucius's core. Few who entered Azkaban retained their sanity, and though he was fully confident that he would escape, he was afraid of what it would do to him. And he was afraid for the two people in the world he loved. Funny how Severus could see all that; he had never been good at reading people.

"Will you visit her? The manor will be so empty, with Draco at school. She enjoys her solitude, from time to time, but she needs companionship."

Severus simply nodded. It was reasonable request, after all, from one friend to another. From one Death Eater to another. He still considered Lucius a friend, though he'd had a large part in the man's capture. Lucius had chosen the wrong side, but that couldn't erase the years they'd spent together. He couldn't forget the evenings spent in the luxurious warmth of Malfoy Manor, so different from his own cold family home.

"And Draco. My son. When I am gone, you must teach him the ways of our loyalties. He is surrounded by fools, Severus. Show him the true path."

Those grey eyes had softened at the mention of his son, but now they hardened again. His visitor pulled up a black hood over his head and picked up his ebony and silver walking stick. "Thank you." Without a further word, Lucius Disapparated, and Severus began the long walk back to Hogwarts.

He would honor the request laid upon him. Lucius was right; Draco was surrounded by fools, but they weren't the same his father meant. Draco paraded around with his bodyguards, the dim-witted Crabbe and Goyle much as his father had during his school years. And years later, where was his father? Very near the gates of Azkaban.

No, Severus would not allow Draco to end like that. The boy had so much promise. If he could channel his ambition and his hatred for Potter into a useful fashion, he could become very powerful in the wizarding world. But if he fell into darkness, he would only have the cells of Azkaban.

And though Severus could not bring himself to kill Lucius for a hundred different reasons, he felt less compunction concerning the boy. He had potential, but he was a brat. He simultaneously scorned the Granger girl for her Muggle blood and failed to best her. In fact, the boy had once returned to the castle with a suspicious swelling on his cheek, and none of the trio would reveal its source. Usually, he loved playing up the imaginary injuries dealt to him in ploys for sympathy and trouble for someone else. Severus was sure the Granger girl had lost her temper and clocked the boy across the mouth. _Good for her_, he thought, one of the very few times he praised her. The boy did have a big head which needed taking down every so often.

He believed he could kill Draco if it became absolutely necessary, but he hoped it wouldn't, for her sake. His breath caught in his throat, and he growled. This was ridiculous. He couldn't even think about her without losing his senses, it seemed... but that was that. There was nothing to be done about it. He would visit her, as he had promised Lucius, and he would look foreboding, and he would restrain himself from taking her in his arms.


	2. Polite Company

"How is Draco keeping up with his schoolwork?" Narcissa wore dark, unrelieved blue that looked nearly black. It was as if she had begun mourning her husband. Severus knew she would not give up hope for his return, but he also knew how difficult this time was for her. Lucius had never stayed away this long; it must feel a little like death for her already.

"Very well, Lady Malfoy. He has some of the highest marks in Slytherin."

Narcissa waved a hand. "How many times must I ask you, Severus? Please, call me Narcissa. You have been such a good friend to us." She smiled. "But he still has not bested that girl." She snapped her fingers, trying to remember. "The Muggle-born one whom he complains about nearly as much as the Potter boy."

"Hermione Granger. No, she remains the highest in her year."

Her tinkly laugh was shocking in its gaiety. "Hermione. What a ludicrous name. My Draco has not yet learned, it seems, that actions speak louder than words. The only way he will prove his superiority is simply to... what is that phrase?... beat her at her own game."

Severus nodded, and silence settled over the sitting room. Then, "You look pale, My La... Narcissa."

She shook her head, and blonde hair fell across her shoulders. Her elegant bun had come loose. Severus had always thought that she was more beautiful that any veela, especially when her hair was flowing down her graceful neck and shining gold. The picture of loveliness would be complete if her eyes were sparkling, but they were clouded with sorrow.

"The house-elves have been beside themselves since Lucius... left." She wouldn't say that he was taken away. "Their housekeeping has not been up to standards lately, and I'm afraid I never learned to cook. It wasn't thought necessary for a Black."

Severus swallowed. "Perhaps I could help you there, Narcissa. My remaining house-elf is the most abominable cook. Most nights I prepare my own meal, though it is much less fine than the feasts to which you are accustomed."

She bowed her golden head. "That is very kind of you, Severus. I will tell Tweedi immediately that I shall be out for the night."

"That isn't what I had intended..." Severus protested, but Narcissa was gone before he got two words out.

His family mansion was a dark and cold place, rather like its current—and sole—inhabitant. His parents had filled the place with bitterness and fear, and years after their deaths, it retained a vaguely ominous air. The walls were high and grand and black. Lanterns were set near the ceiling, casting a harsh yellow light on the heavy, brocaded furniture. The rugs made one somewhat queasy if one gazed at them for too long; their creator seemed to have woven figures writhing in agony into the dark threads.

He didn't live there anymore, but he was sure Narcissa would be expecting to dine there. She would turn up her aristocratic nose at the comparatively tiny rooms where he lived at Hogwarts. And he couldn't allow her to see the pictures he kept: of her, of another woman as dark as Narcissa was blonde, and a child. She would know, if she saw them.

She reappeared with a white hat and scarf and the warmest smile he had seen on her face since Lucius had... left. Her smile was like the sun. Severus averted his eyes, praying that she wouldn't read the expression in them. "Perhaps we should delay the cooking lessons. My residence isn't fit to receive guests." Before her face could fall, he added, "But I have heard of a new restaurant which has just opened in our section of Paris."

Narcissa's eyes registered surprise, and she looked down at herself. "I'm not sure I'm attired correctly..."

Severus snorted. "I know that I am not. Shall we go?"


	3. A Matter of Timing

And so they continued for months. Sometimes they Apparated a short distance from Hogwarts and walked through the picturesque woodland to the dungeon where Severus lived. Narcissa liked to check on Draco when he slept, and then Severus gave her informal cooking lessons. He had removed anything incriminating to his bedroom. Narcissa had seemed rather concerned for him when she saw his abode and promised that when Lucius was free, and the Death Eaters had power again, he would live like a king. Luckily, she was used to his taciturn manner and didn't mind when he didn't answer beyond a nod.

Sometimes they stayed at Malfoy Manor and talked about the past, Draco, and especially Lucius. He wanted to hate Lucius, but he had discovered long ago that he couldn't. Lucius was everything he was not: handsome, charming, elegant, and even affectionate in very private circles. As for himself, it took a good deal of effort for him to make polite conversation. And it wasn't as if Severus could accuse of Lucius of stealing Narcissa's heart. His lip curled at the thought. Narcissa Malfoy—and Narcissa Black—had treated him decently, but she had never once looked at him the way she looked at Lucius.

Gods knew that not all aristocratic wizard marriages were happy ones—look at his own parents—but the Malfoys had somehow managed to pull it off. The only day he had seen Lucius and Narcissa happier than the day of their wedding was that of the birth of their son. Simple-minded people liked to think that because both were Death Eaters and undeniably evil, that they were incapable of love. The irony was not lost on him; he had sided with "good" and was a fairly unhappy person, and he knew there was no lack of people who would add 'horrible' to that. Maybe they were right, but just because he had switched sides didn't mean he should suddenly become all sweetness and light.

During all that time, Narcissa kept her dignity about her just as she always had. Except one night Severus had come one night, and one of the Malfoys' ridiculous house-elves had refused to let him see Narcissa. Lady Malfoy was indisposed.

Severus snarled something and shoved past the squeaking creature. The things were worse than useless sometimes. Narcissa had requested a mild sleeping potion from him, one that would grant her dreamless slumber, and he'd had to wait several weeks to properly brew it.

He wandered the mansion for nearly a quarter of an hour before finding Narcissa in her bedroom. He hesitated to enter, knowing all too well how he would feel if she entered his. Cautiously, he eased open the door to a scene he would never have imagined. It looked though a whirlwind had torn through the room, decorated tastefully in maroon and silver. Bed-hangings lay torn on the floor, and for a moment, the scarlet draperies looked like blood-soaked rags. Glass glittered dangerously on the rug, likely from the broken silver lamp near a vanity.

She had the largest sliver of glass clutched in her pale hand so tightly that a thin trickle of blood showed between her fingers. She seemed to be steeling herself for something, eyes closed and wrist extended stiffly. Severus dashed forward and grasped the hand that held the shard. She looked up at him but didn't see him, blue eyes flashing murder. He had seen that expression before, but this was the first time it had been directed at him.

"Accio wand," she muttered, and a slender wand flew to her free hand. She raised it and stared at Severus with those blank eyes. "Avada--"

He clamped his hand on her other wrist hard enough that she gasped and dropped her wand. "You don't want to do that."

The sharp pain in her wrist had brought her back from her trance. She frowned at her injured wrist. "Severus?" She flexed it carefully. After she was sure it wasn't broken, she gazed around her bedroom. Her eyes widened. "What happened here?"

"You did, I believe."

She looked around curiously and then nodded slowly. "Yes... I remember." Only then did she recall the piece of glass she held. She dropped it as an expression of revulsion passed lightly over her porcelain features. "I was weak." She sighed. "Today is our anniversary," she said in way of explanation.

Of course. He let go her wrists and retrieved the potion from his robes. "Your potion, My Lady," he muttered. How could he have been so stupid?

She closed her small hands over his and gazed into his black eyes. "How many times must I remind you, Severus? To you, I'm Narcissa. You just saved my life."

He turned and black hair fell over his features, obscuring his reaction to her words and gesture. "Yes." He loosened his grip on the bottle and gently extracted his hand from hers. "I have lessons to prepare. I hope this is helpful." Without waiting for her reply, he swept out of her bedroom.


	4. A Discovery and a Decision

A/N: This is the last chapter, folks! I would really love reviews from those of you who haven't big eyes. It would mean a lot to a first-time HP fic writer!

ON TO

Chapter Four (the last):

Narcissa was surprised by her friend's sudden departure. Then again, he had always been a bit... unpredictable. She guessed he was embarrassed about her gratitude; Severus Snape was uncomfortable around people and had learned minimal social graces. His time in Slytherin House had not helped him much in that regard. He had been teased and bullied mercilessly from inside and outside his House—proof, she thought wryly, that the good guys were not always very nice—and became embittered where he had only been awkward. She often wondered if he would have joined the Dark Lord if his years at Hogwarts had gone differently.

She tried to let him know what a valuable ally he was, not solely for the movement as a whole, but also for her and Lucius. He was the only hope for their son at that corrupted school. She winced at the long, shallow cut on her palm. He had also saved her life tonight, though he more likely saw it as an intrusion on his part.

She decided that she would do something kind for him. It might take her mind of her husband, and perhaps Severus would be too surprised to scowl, for once. But what could she do? She couldn't purchase anything overtly Dark for him; Dumbledore would sniff it out in a second. She realized that she had very little idea of his tastes in general, besides dreary. His cramped rooms at Hogwarts were certainly dreary, and she had the impression that he preferred them so.

She puzzled over this as she prepared herself for bed and drank a tiny drop of the potion he had provided for her. It worked perfectly; she drifted off in minutes, and she awoke after her first full night's sleep in months.

Severus Snape was an exceedingly difficult knot to unravel. To her exasperation, he didn't seem to like much of anything. She sorted through all the memories she possessed of her friend, but nothing stood out as helpful. The idea came to her suddenly while she was repairing the savaged bedroom the next morning. She smiled as she smoothed down the heavy scarlet comforter.

She shooed the house-elves out of the kitchen and searched for a full half hour before she located everything she would need. She carefully filled a velvet bag with her find and Disapparated. Her eyes strayed longingly toward the small but flourishing village near the school, but she didn't waver in her path. Hogsmeade was no London, but they always had a unique offering for shoppers. And because it was so near Hogwarts, it would be highly dangerous to show herself there. Of course, if Hogsmeade was dangerous, Hogwarts was an open trap.

She flicked her wand, murmured an illegal spell—as she did not possess the skills necessary to be a Metamorphmagus—and saw the blonde locks spilling freely down her shoulders darken and curl. Her skin took on a youthful glow and her eyes dimmed to a smoky green. She conjured a silver orb and gazed in appreciation at the figure reflected back at her. She could pass as a student, now. Another quick spell, and her dress became a robe greener than her eyes, stitched in silver. Her lips twitched at the thought that this detail would amuse Severus.

She strode up to the castle and through the unattended doors. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the boy himself, black hair mussed around his scar. He looked at her quizzically, then saw her robes and averted his eyes. He bent near his friend, doubtless one of the dozen Weasleys, and whispered something. The red-headed boy turned and shrugged.

She hurried away toward the dungeon rooms. That child had brought down the Dark Lord as an infant and continued to thwart him. He shouldn't look so ordinary, she thought. But the scar was all the ornamention he needed.

The second surprise she had was the sight of her own son, deep in conversation with a girl she vaguely recognized. A Parkinson, likely. Two brutish boys tagged along, Crabbe and Goyle juniors. He looked so much like her father, but she could trace her image in that pale face too. She approached him and interrupted his conversation with the Parkinson girl, to the latter's chagrin. "Actions speak louder than words, Draco. I do hope you try to remember that." She left him gaping at her, for her voice had not changed with her form. The girl muttered something nasty.

She remembered the way to Severus's rooms easily and hoped he would be teaching now. As she passed the Potions classroom, she dared a quick peek and saw that he was sharply reprimanding a quivering girl. Perfect.

His rooms were sealed with a charm which dissipated at the right words. She entered and found the tiny kitchen adjacent to a study. It had seemed strange to her that he didn't simply order food from the house-elves when he didn't wish to dine with the rest of the school, but Severus was a man who valued his independence.

She took the ingredients from her bag and lay them out. Savory aromas soon filled the kitchen and study, thanks to Severus's precise teaching. She knew he could cook completely without magic if necessary, but she saw no reason to adhere to the same strictness. Really, all she did was speed up the process, and even so, she had nearly an hour until the meal would be ready.

His study was lined with books, most of which were dusty potions manuals. She tried a couple of volumes, but nothing held her interest. She knew it would be rude to enter his bedroom, but after three-quarters of an hour, she felt a bit claustrophobic in the dark room and decided to take a swift glance inside.

A plain bed with faded blankets, a battered armoire, and a nightstand. Simple enough. She began to leave when something caught her eye. A stray beam of light from the kitchen struck a silver frame. She inched her way inside, nervous but overwhelmingly curious. What sort of pictures would Severus keep by his bedside?

Ten minutes later, she stumbled out, oblivious to the odor of slightly burnt food. She fell into an armchair and sat there for a long time. The insistent smell of very burnt food reached her after awhile, and she blinked it out of existence with an impatient wave of her wand.

It was impossible. He should hate Lucius. He should hate Draco. He certainly shouldn't be visiting her and teaching her to cook. None of it made any sense, dammit! He was even more secretive than any of them had thought and more devious than they could have believed. He does his job well, she thought bitterly. They had all been so blind.

He had betrayed the Dark Lord and was now Dumbledore's lackey in the newly resurrected Order of the Phoenix. He had probably assisted in the capture of her husband and countless others. He was a role model for her son, and though Draco had never mentioned a suspicion of the professor's loyalties, she was sure he would subtly lead him away from the Dark Lord.

What was more, he was in love with her. She couldn't tell what the other pictures meant, but she knew enough. She saw his odd silences and awkward formality in a different light. She wondered how long he had loved her, how many evenings he had spent with the Malfoy family and tried to suppress those feelings.

She should kill him. She should go to the Potions classroom and blast him with Avada Kedavra before his students. Barring that, she should wait here and pretend ignorance until she lured him away from Hogwarts. It would be safest to do it at Malfoy Manor itself; it had seen its share of gore and was protected by more wards and secret rooms than she could count.

She got up and exited his rooms, checking to be sure he wasn't nearby. She kept her eyes down as she made her way through Hogwarts back to the gates. She didn't want to take the chance that she might see him. After she had walked a ways, she Apparated back home.

She rummaged through her husband's study until she found a blank parchment and a quill. There were so many things she wanted to say, wanted to demand of this man who had lied to them for years. But she wrote simply that although she was very grateful for his company for the past months, she felt she needed to begin returning to the world and would not require his presence again. She sent the letter with a grey, downy owl and then dropped her head into her hands.

It was reasonable request, after all, from one friend to another. Severus had chosen the wrong side, but that couldn't erase the time they'd all spent together, from their youth in the Slytherin common room to adulthood at Malfoy Manor. She couldn't forget soothing his hurts after the noble Gryffindors pulled another heartless prank and couldn't forget the times he had saved Lucius's life after ill-planned raids. She couldn't forget when he'd saved her life, just a few weeks ago. So now she would spare his, this once.

Edited to add that I've been told that the end is rather unclear. I did write it purposely to be a bit ambiguous, but I don't want it to detract from the story for anyone. Let's say the unclear _stuff _she found is other pictures, documents, which were magically encrypted (and which she magically un-encrypted) and told of his position as a spy for Dumbledore. That is what I wanted to imply happened during the mystery ten minutes but didn't seem to properly convey. Or maybe she just stumbled across something innocent and got all paranoid… it's up to you.


End file.
